


Cold, worn and maybe a little panic stricken

by Max72



Series: Cold, worn and maybe a little panic stricken [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-06 00:03:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1100106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Max72/pseuds/Max72
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was an easy rescue, to go in and get the captured Shield agents out, no problem, but someone seemed to have neglected to tell Clint Barton who he was there to extract. A female Agent of Shield, a Male Agent of Shield and a just about Walking, Dead, Man of Shield!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chat up lines.

**Author's Note:**

> So.... I haven't written for this fandom before, I don't have a beta (volunteers always welcome) I have bad grammar and my brain writes much faster than I do, i'm not good at re-read my work but I do try! I'm not even sure of my tenses here, so be prepared for mistakes! Its going to be angsty, I have no idea how long it will be, and the idea is probably much better in my head than on paper and actually only stretches to the next chapter! 
> 
> Not much to recommend it really! If you make it till the end of the chapter without running away, please let me know if I should hang up my boots!

The door opened almost silently but not enough for Agent Melinda May not to have heard. She raise her head slowly but her eyebrows lifted slightly, the only tell, to her surprise, at the sight before her. After all she was a Agent of Shield and they were trained to expect the unexpected and all that clichéd stuff that they really did teach you as a baby agent.

“Agent May, fancy seeing you here.” 

The cocky remark was just what she was expecting from the man currently draped across the door frame, she wanted to tut at him, but wouldn't give him the pleasure, he was so casual it was if he was looking to pick her up at a nightclub rather than break them out of a secure, well maybe not that secure, hydra facility but frankly she had never understood Coulsons Pet Archer and her Bosses fondness for him. She'd only worked with Clint Barton on rare occasions and she couldn't fault his abilities in the field but for lack of a better phrase he rubbed her up the wrong way. So it aggravated her somewhat that she couldn't be happier to see the smirking face looking down at her from across the cell.

“Barton,” She sighed with just the right amount of disdain to lift the edges of Hawkeye's lips still further, “Not that I don't enjoy family reunions but I have been sitting here for the past three days on this rather hard and ridiculously wet concrete floor unable to do more than shuffle from one buttock to next, the only contact with the outside world is the guard that comes in here once a day to shove a bottle of water in my face and leer at me with bad teeth. My patience is starting to wear a little thin,” She finished twisting her body round to indicate the cuffs holding her firmly to the wall and raising her eyebrows at him. 

“My god, May, that's more than I have heard you say in the whole time I've known you, must be really boring in here!” Barton stated as he made his way over to her and blew the cuffs open. 

She bounced to her feet, in total contrast to the hours of cramped confinement. 

“So what did the bad guys want this time,” He asked, as he watched her stretch out. 

“No idea, haven't been asked a single question.” 

“Odd?”

“Very,” she commented, “ guess they had other things on their mind,” she turned shapely back to Hawkeye, “Found anyone else?” 

“Yep, got Mr tall dark and broody Ward, he's tying his shoelaces or taking a piss,” he grinned as May pulled a face before carrying on, “possibly getting his legs to working again, they are preposterous long aren't they?” He looked back towards the door as if he expected Ward to be standing there, before turning back looking vaguely disappointed that he wasn't, “but apart from the wet butt his suit looks pretty unscathed too so I guess they left him to his own gloomy introspection as well.”

Taking a deep breath, May gave him a dark look, as he ran his mouth off. This is why spending time round Hawkeye was a test, she remembered. She didn't know how Coulson survived it for all the years they had worked together but then the rumour mill around Shield corridors was that he also shared fringe benefits, but May never needed to listen to gossip and half truths, she knew exactly what the situation was/is? She had become the ear to one Phil Coulson in the last few months and the man before her was his greatest regret. It bothered her, she conceded, to see the doubt when he talked about what happened after New York, the quiet terror she saw in her bosses eyes about himself. Melinda May was waiting, for what she wasn't quite sure but she hoped to hell it wasn't a melt down because through it all she respected Coulson, she actually liked him, considered him a friend and she had less than a handful of them.

“ Anyway Agent May, as lovely as this all is, I think we should get the hell out of dodge before anyone wonders why all the bad guys in the area have gone rather silent,” Clint pronounced as he made his way across the cell the way he came in.

“Wait,” May paused, as Clint turned back towards her. She was starting to get a sinking feeling by the way Barton seemed to think his job was done. “Barton what were you told about this mission, who gave it to you?”

Clint frowned at the inquiry, “ It was a verbally instruction from Fury's office, why?”  
“ Damn,” she whispered more to herself than the man standing near her, before saying, “We haven't finished yet. We're still a man down.”

Any queries Barton was about to throw her way were stalled as Ward made an appearance his tall frame filling the cell door. “Have you found him?” Grant directed his question at May.

Barton did a double take between the two Agents trying to catch who the hell they where talking about. He was about to verbalize his thoughts as Melinda May stepped past him into the hallway of the compound , her feet splashing through the running water making a steady steam that presumably headed toward the exit. “Which way have you checked so far,” She turned briefly towards Barton, body language showing her determination to get things moving. 

Barton joined the two Shield operatives pointing downstream, from the direction he had come down, “Everything that way is clear.”

“Okay, Ward start opening doors, Barton watch our six.” 

They checked the few doors in the corridor their own cells had been situated with no success and rounded the corner to another corridor the same as the last. May took one side and Ward the other opening what seemed like endless doors into empty rooms, some locked which the agents quickly blasted open only to find them unoccupied, some filled with furniture but none held what they were looking for. Barton had obviously done a real job of neutralizing the opposition though as this was not very stealth, quiet work.

Clint never the less stayed back letting them work, scanning both ways for visitors, he wasn't much in the mood for stepping on Melinda May's toes, that never panned out well! He watched as her eyes rapidly took in information as she went, robot like, assessing the situation, she reminded him of Phil, he knew that they had been friends of sorts back then before it had all gone to hell, he swallowed, he needed to blanked the name out of his head, thinking of him only lead to lost weekends and doom. He almost snorted at the hilarity of the idea of May and himself sitting down to chat about the good old days when Agent Coulson was still alive, even Phil would have found the amusement in that visual.

Hawkeye was draw back as the Melinda stopped, her eyes scanning forward, as she had noticed the streaming water was coming from one particular door ahead, drawing Wards attention to it, he skipped several doors to stop in front of it setting a charge on the lock and stepping back for a second as it blew, causing it to swing open with the force of the small explosion.

“Shit,” Ward starred into the cell, and sent a look back toward May, his face betrayed the fact they had found what they were looking for and in that one glance, that it was not in pristine condition. She started forward towards the cell as Barton stepped up next to her, she placed a hand on his arm and prevented him going any further. Her mouth thinned out as if she didn't want to say the words but looked him in the face, “Its not his fault,” she said cryptically, “he was under orders just like the rest of us.”

Barton frowned in puzzlement but stepped into the cell after Ward without questioning her further, eager to see what had her rattled enough to touch him, after all Melinda May's was not known for her tactile behaviour, he noted that she followed him in, a close step behind before drawing level again. 

Her gaze swept over the room, it was huge, no less run down than the others, the only sound was of water hitting the floor, breaking the silence and making the room feel even damper and colder than the others, but all three of the Agents attention was quickly drawn to one thing and it was exactly in the area that the water was pouring.


	2. Shock in the extreme.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last man is found but Clint still isn't sure who it is, and when he finally finds out, will it all be too much for him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for those that left comments and kudos, its much appreciated. 
> 
> I really hope not to have made too many mistakes but I fear for the worst.

In the far corner a kneeling figure of a man was visible, back turned toward the cell door, arms spread out and held above his head by chains hanging from the ceiling, shoulder muscles taut in what must have been agonizing hours of strain, bare feet shackled to the floor by the ankles, head slumped forward in unconsciousness or death. A pipe directly overhead had been ruptured and water poured down hitting the drooped (as much as the chains would allow) shoulders of the shirtless man before running down his body and into the black pants that shimmered from the wetness that clung to them. 

May, Ward and Barton weren't close enough from where they stood at the open doorway to assess whether the figure was alive and the two members of the deathly still man's team seemed suddenly reluctant to move closer to look for themselves.

“I think we can see what's been occupying their time, while you two have been twiddling you thumbs,” Barton's spat with distaste at the sight.

He started to move towards the figure, snapping the other two from their staring fugue. May frowned at herself, she had been rooted to the floor at the first sight of her boss, Agents of Shield didn't freeze on the job, but Barton was right, guilt was guilt and while she had been sitting in her cell feeling grateful that they didn't seem interested in her, Coulson had been paying the price. 

And the price looked high as they drew closer, “Shit, shit, shit,” Wards words echoed quietly round the huge room, also mirroring the thoughts of the others, there was a smell of blood in the air, but the blood had long been washed away, leaving a back that was covered dark black, red and purple with endless bruising only divided by deep slashes that cut across the abused skin. 

Melinda rushed forward at last, sweeping past a slowing Hawkeye, a look of troubled hesitancy starting to form on his face as the distance closed. May reached the still figure, getting straight down on her knees mindless of the water soaking into her clothes and hair, she gently lifting Coulsons head, to check for a pulse. It was with a air of relief and concern that the pulse wasn't needed as a harsh rattling breath was wretched from deep in his chest. Whether originating from broken ribs or the undoubted chest infection from the cold and the water, that still pelted his body, it didn't much matter at this stage, they just needed to get him out of here and fast. 

“Ward, get him down” she hissed, and watched as the Agent looked round the room then pushed a wooden box over before he jumped up and using all his strength, muscles bulging in his suited arms, to twist the water pipe directly away from the two bodies much to the females relief as she wiped her hand through her now wet hair. 

She glanced back towards Barton who had come to a stop a few meters away, he was staring wildly at the slumped shoulders. His eyes darted up to meet Melinda's, emotion deeply embedded in them, a question, a petrified query obviously detectable, his eyes scooted back down, his lips moved but no sound emerging.

Melinda sighed, she'd never seen a rattled Barton, and it was time to bring any lingering doubt about her bosses identity to a stop. 

“Coulson, come on,” she tapped his face gently, but received no answer, “Phil, time to go,” she tried again, “we need you to wake up now.”

The edges of May's lips tripped up when she heard a small grunt not much more than a deep huff vibrate through the frighteningly cold form but it was progress and she looked back up towards Hawkeye with as close a look to delight that Melinda May was going to give away. He stood rock still though, all colour had drained from his face, a sheen of sweat had broken out on his upper lip and forehead. He was numbly shaking his head with consternation.

The limbo was violently broken as the chain holding one of the tortured man's arms up was abruptly severed by Ward and the arm swung forcefully down hitting the side of his body with a wet slap, a low whimper of pain wheezed out of the man, the torment of unused muscles suddenly moving, roused him and his head lifted swiftly, eyes wide and wild. 

“Sorry,” Ward grimaced.

Agent May glared up at him for a second, while holding the injured man in place, trying to prevent further damage.

She turned Coulson's head to directly look into his eyes, before saying, “Sir, can you hear me.” 

“Mmn,” his head wavered drunkenly in May's hands, eyes not able to stick on the female agents face for more than few seconds.

The snap of the second chain was less dramatic this time as Ward held his arm in place and gently lowered the arm, but even this method made the barely cognizant man grimace and exclaim loudly. May had to quickly move one of her hands down to his shoulders to prevent him falling forward now the chains had released him. The tall agent stepped down and moved round to the back of Coulson and started on releasing his feet.

“Sir,” May shifted her hand under his chin to raise his head once again, before continuing, trying to rouse the man into further alertness, “Barton is here to get us out.”

“Wha...” Coulson's eye flicked up with a flash of comprehension for the first time. “Clint?”

Melinda's eyes briefly left her bosses to look back at Barton, but started when he wasn't there. She glanced round, frowning in question, then caught Ward's eyes, and indicating with her head in the direction Barton had been standing. Grant turned to survey behind him in that direction before looking back eyebrows knotted and shoulders shrugged up, unable to answer her silent inquiry. 

“Clint?” Coulson barely whispered again, trying to get his body to turn in co-operation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not quite so long this time, sorry, but it seemed like the best place to stop, and I love a bit of a cliff hanger or perhaps this is a clint hanger!


	3. Closet disclosures.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where is Barton?

Melinda held firm, “Coulson, look at me, we need you to focus, Barton has gone to scout out the exit,” she lied, “Okay?” she waited for him to stop struggling, “Okay?” Once he acknowledged her with a slight nod of his head she continued, “How you doing?”

“Fine,” he mumbled, “fine.”

“Yer right,” she rolled her eyes at his answer.

Agent Coulson's eyes were the ones that zeroed onto hers for the first time since finding him, “You?” He asked.

She smiled slightly at him, “I'm fine, Sir, they never touched me,” she said regretfully.

“Ward?” he questioned again.

“Right here, Sir,” Ward greeted the battered man, from his position directly behind him. He quickly snapped the first ankle restraint before moving on to the next and continued, “and I'm good too, Sir.”

Coulson nodded with relief. “What's Barton doing here?” He queried.

“ Good question, only thing he said was that he got a direct call from Fury's office, sounded like a rush job, can only imagine he was in the area, and they were desperate.”

“Okay,” Coulson agreed more easily than he would have under normal circumstances.

“Not really...” May’s voice sliced through tersely, “Phil, he was sent in here blind.”

“Blind?” His voice sounded slightly confused as if information wasn't sinking in at its normal rate.

“He didn't know what he was walking into, how many of us needed extraction,” she fretted as she was about to let the last piece of information out, knowing it wasn't going to be received well and she was more than pissed herself. “He didn't know you would be one of them! From his reaction, they never told him you where still alive before sending him in here to get us.”

Coulson groaned in sorrow, “Oh Crap,” he managed to whisper out, his face pulled into a grimace of painful anguish. 

The final snap sounded as the last restraint broke signalling the agents freedom at last. Ward indicated from behind him to May that he was going to get him up. He waited for a nod of agreement as she moved back onto her heels, before stating loudly to the man in question, “Sorry Sir, this is going to hurt but we got to get you up and this is the quickest method.” He slipped his arms under Coulsons, linking his hands, feeling the healed deep scar that ran across the injured man's chest beneath his fingers. With one smooth motion the tall agent hoisted the smaller one up to his feet, feet that splayed out, toes pointing downward barely touching the ground until Ward settled the man down so his feet flattered onto the floor, completely unable to hold himself up without the support of the young agent behind him, who as gently as possible rested the battered agents back against his own chest, a small tick on his cheek the only sign of emotion that cross his face as the older man was unable to restrain a sharp cry of pain. May immediately started rubbing and massaging his legs starting at the thighs and slowing making her way down, getting the circulation going.

“You remember last time I had to do this, Sir?” a smile creeping across her face as she looked up through her eyelashes at him.

“Seemed like a lot more fun that time,” Coulson gasped.

“Really?” May's eyebrow twitched up, pleased he had been able to answer and rational enough to remember that mission at all, “Didn't seem that much fun to me, especially when you decided you couldn't stand still any longer and started fidgeting about!”

“I had cramp! We had been standing there for five hours,” A tiny smirk come grimace crossed his face as he managed to pant out, in humour, “and it was a very small closet, May”. 

“Hmm, very small,” She repeated his words, as she continued to rub at his legs.

“I did appreciate you slithering down my body to stroke my calf back to life though.”

May didn't laugh out loud very often and she would later blame the tense situation, but even in the state he was in, Coulson had the uncanny ability to make her smile, even if she hated to admit it at the best of times, especially to him. It was a shame to break the moment but she had to harden her emotions for the next bit, she knew how much it was going to hurt.

If he had been more lucid he would have spotted the distraction tactic from May but the little verbal confabulation with her was as much as he could managed to absorb at one time. He nearly roared as the pain swept through his foot as she rotated his foot round the ankle joint, the long hours of kneeling, feet trapped in the same position unable to move in any direction had long frozen the muscles, and as the female agent revolved the life back into the joint, the pain was intense. 

Melinda continued on, trying to ignore the painful hisses and heavy breathes that sounded frightening like sobs. She took a second to glance at Ward, who was staring upward face tight, neither Agent looked at the man making the noises, he wouldn't want them too. 

She continued until she felt him starting to put a little weight on each foot and the pitiful noises died down until all that could be heard were his shuddering inhales and exhales of air.

“You're a sadist, May,” Coulson hissed out. 

“I know, Sir,” she said regretfully.

May got to her feet, there was a glassy, glazed edge to Coulsons eyes as she looked at him, his skin was grey and sweaty despite the fact he must be close to hypothermia, small shivers racked his body. It was difficult to tell if he was aware of his surroundings but the other two agents were, “Time to go,” May spoke.

“What about...” Ward started, before May shook her head stopping him mid sentence. She moved to Coulsons left and placed his arm over her shoulder and taking a tight grip of his hand, before taking most of his weight as Ward moved out from behind him to take the other side, it was awkward for the taller agent and he had to stoop to match the others heights better. 

They stepped out, half dragging the man between them, all the adrenaline long gone from their leaders body, as he sagged in the midst of the two agents, but never the less they made quick progress towards the exit of the large room. They were virtually on top of the door when someone suddenly stepped into the frame, Ward barely holding in an exclaim, as they nearly crashed to a halt. Coulson's chin bumping against his chest as he languished between being conscious and unconscious again. 

The Avenger of the other side of the door never even blinked.

“Welcome back,” May's voice was completely devoid of emotion but somehow she still managed to say it with disdain. 

“Here,” Barton shoved a bundle of material out towards the three agents, glancing away as soon as May took them from him, “Its cold outside, he won't last long out there.” He stepped out into the corridor again but didn't turn to leave just waited for them, checking the corridor up and down rather than having to look at the half dressed man still being held upright.

She unfolded the clothes leaving Ward to take the weight on his own, and lifted Coulson's head, quickly pulling the jumper over, trying not to scrap the fabric down his back as she pulled it on. She efficiently stripped the wet pants off and redressed him with the provided pair, “good fit,” she commented, glancing at Hawkeye.

“ I took a guess, from the bodies I had available,” Barton snapped back.

The coat was last to go on, a good thick looking jacket that should help keep some of the cold off, “Thank you,” May said warmly, looking directly at him again, pleased that this time he lifted his eyes towards her at the words, a tiny nod in acknowledgement exchanged between them. 

“We should move,” he shrugged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, they finally made it out of that room! This is turning into a beast it was supposed to be two chapters long, think I must waffle a lot! 
> 
> Comments make the fingers type quicker ;)


	4. ....and the panic starts.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Walking and thinking, deep dark thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second half of this chapter went in a completely different direction than I expected, I really hope it makes sense in the written form like it does in my head!!
> 
> All mistakes are mine as usual!

“Hold on, tell me the plan,” May commanded before they stepped out.

“I have extraction point, in..,” He looked at his watch, “five hours 15 minutes from now, approximately ten clicks from here.

“That's a long time out in the open,” Ward said looking over at Coulson.

“Well that’s it, no other options, so lets go.” 

Barton's attitude puzzled Ward but he was efficient, the Tall Agent had to give him that, there was nobody to challenge them as they made steady progress through the building, bodies littered the way as they went. They stopped once, as the Archer raided one of his various bodies to claim some socks and shoes, well, a pair of tatty running shoes, under normal circumstances Coulson wouldn't have been caught dead in them but this was far from normal and the previous owner, obviously, had been. Nobody questioned that the shoes were a remarkably good fit and Barton had been seemingly checking feet size every time they came across a potential donor, they had walked passed several bodies before Clint decided he had found his match. He stripped them off roughly and handed them off to May before stalking off again.

Coulson roused several times on the way out but said nothing, watching Barton ahead of him, the atmosphere thick with tension, silence following their footsteps.

The air was crisp and fresh as they finally exited the building, Agent Barton had gone ahead to check before the others followed, the same eerily emptiness was present outside, there were no vehicles and only a few men had been stationed out in the open, all had been dealt with by Avenger on the way in. 

The chill immediately hit Coulson's chest and he started spluttering. Ward and May stopped and tried to help as the man bent forward, but it quickly turned into violent coughing fit, robbing the man of breath. Barton darted off again, leaving them to rub his back uselessly, only really able to hold him up and wait for it to subside. It wasn't long this time before Barton was back, carrying a black canvas bag that he had obviously stashed somewhere out of sight, as he reached them, he drop down to one knee and started to forage through the contents. He pulled a bottle of water out first, placing it on the floor before heading back into the backpack and pulling out a small first aid kit, from that he took out two sets of pills, popping them out of the wrapper, two of each. “Antibiotics and painkillers,” he stated blandly, and once again handed everything off to May.

She sighed and muttered, while trying to juggle holding Coulson up on one side, unscrewing the bottle top before helping the man take a few small sips to calm the coughing and then popping the pills in his mouth with some more water to wash them down. Phil, although conscious, was still trying to catch his breath and really only had eyes for Barton rather than what she was trying to do for him, “could you help?” she glared at Clint as he stood watching her struggle. 

Barton looked up into Coulson's worried eyes, briefly glancing across to May before sliding back, his eyes clearly revealing the anger raging deep inside, before answering, “No I don't think so,” instantly repacking the bag and swinging it up to his shoulder, turning abruptly away, and stalking off ahead. Ward felt his boss hand grasp harder on his jacket shoulder where he gripped, he looked over the older man's head with a perplexed expression to May, who simply rolled her eyes and adjusted her grip on the heavy coat. She was starting to wish she had found herself a jacket to put on, the air was definitely chilly in more than one way.

 

The Pain killers had helped, they really had, and half an hour into the march out of the Hydra base that had imprisoned them, Phil had been able to step forward one foot in front of the other, with the two Agents either side of him used more for balance and reassurance than to half drag him along between them. 

He had been sufficiently coherent enough to ask what the current situation was, he had been more than savvy enough to read the stiff, inflexible set of Clint's shoulders as he walked ahead of them and he had been hideously and alarmingly aware enough to acknowledge what a complete and utter idiot, asshole, bastard and every other profanity that Clint's surprisingly (to some) good vocabulary was more than likely reciting repetitively about Phil in his head right now.

The worst of it all was Phil Coulson was unashamedly conscious of the fact he deserved every single one of them, and any more derisory words his own brain could come up with to help out if Clint ran short. When had he become such an unmitigated shit and coward he wondered. Strike that, he knew the answer to at lease the coward part, maybe the shit part had been building over time, but the coward part had started the moment he had started using his own death to become the excuse for the life he was living now, self loathing was something Agent Philip. J. Coulson would never have allowed, he would never have second guessed himself, that wasn't what an Agent of Shield and certainly not one as high ranking as him would do. You lived with your choices and at worst you ignored them, you didn't relive them with 'what ifs', but Phil had come back different, not the same man that had left the world for an unidentified amount of time, and he was basking in doubt.

Now... it was too late, far, far too late. 

He knew it would be a battle to even get Clint to listen to him, to salvage a small piece of what he had once had.

Why, oh why, had he forgotten about that. Let it become less than it was.

He had been manipulated into bad decisions, trusting, when he was barely aware he had made any such pledges about his life, coaxed into holding those agreements, and WHY had he not rebelled with every fibre in his body against those voices, that whispered in his ear and sent him away to some magical place, that left an ever more bitter taste in his mouth at the mere thought, and had stolen him away from those that could have grounded him. 

Trust the system. 

But trusting himself was a different matter. 

He was still a damn coward though, because even when he started to realize that things weren't right he hadn't really pushed. He was living in a reality that left his past in a blurry background, Clint had been too easy to sideline, out of focus, his life before death. 

With a sudden sickening insight, as Coulson looked at his former lover standing in front of him, his heart-aching to be able touch him, to feel his hands on his body, to be able to touch his skin but he realized the feelings belonged to the here and now, not of the memories they had shared, the joys and the sorrows of their life together, he could see and remember it all but not with the intensity of emotion that the images should conjure, it was like some hazy existence, watching your life on playback. He was only now starting to comprehend what he had been truly missing since he came back.

He wanted to cry out in rage and frustration but all he did was stumbled for the first time since taking the pain killers, his legs suddenly heavier, his breath suddenly harder to catch. 

Another thread of his life unravelling before him, and as he looked towards Clint again, the coward asked the question, if Barton was better off without this Phil Coulson, the one that quite possibly wasn't real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did it make sense, hope so!


	5. Chat room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The long awaited chat between Clint and Phil, with a little little relief provided by Ward and May.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is long, it should really be two chapters but I promised to get this finished before the next episode of Agents of Shield and I believe you get it in the U.S soon, unfortunately I can't see any sign of it here in the U.K schedules! 
> 
> Anyway the plan is to maybe make this into the start of a series? Let me know if you think it might work. Depending on what happens in the next episode it won't hopefully blow this all out of the water.
> 
> One warning, this chapter contains more swearing than you can shake a stick at, I really couldn't, not have it in so my apologies if it offends!
> 
> and I hope its not too British!

Coulson couldn't say he was disappointed when they stopped and eased him down against a tree, he idly thought he would be more than happy never to move again. They where in heavy tree cover a few hundred meters from Clint's extraction point, which was in a wide open strip between this line of tree cover and another on the other side of the grassy plain. His fellow agents were taking a few moments to relax as well, The last hour of walking had been more of a drag than a helpful hand on Coulson shoulder, he had got progressively more exhausted as the short term relief from the pain killers had worn off, leaving him more than sore and his chest on fire. Ward was to his right. Barton and May had their backs to them, kneeling down talking quietly, from Barton’s arm pointing he seemed to be pointing out the exact pick up area to the dark haired woman.

Ward had sunk down onto the damp, leaf covered floor,and was now taking occasional sips from a half full bottle of water. He looked over at the older man and lent forward and placed the bottle of water into his hand. Coulson had to admit he was glad of the gesture, and took several long swigs from the container. Something sailed past Phil's vision and before his dull senses could process what it was and whether it was a threat, Ward was holding up the offending object which turned out to be a packet of pain killers, he turned towards the other two agents in time to see Barton rummaging round in his backpack, pulling out the other packet and tossing them with his usual expected precision towards Ward who caught them with as much skill, popped out two pills from each and placing them in Coulson's loose hand and waited for his fingers to curl round them so they won't fall to the floor. Phil stared at them for a moment but was aware enough to realise he was in no condition to turn them down, and stuffed them into his mouth and swallowing them down with another sip of water, and a small smile of thanks to Grant.

Rest period was seemingly over, as May, graceful as ever, got to her feet and spoke to Ward, “Ward, you're with me, we're going to scout the other side of the clearing.” She cut off Barton, whose mouth was open, about to protest, “You stay here, watch over Coulson.” With that she was gone, leaving Ward scrambling up from the ground to follow her.

“Great,” Clint mumbled bitterly, and took a peek at Coulson, relieved to see the man's eyes had closed and with any luck he would sleep until May returned. He turned to watch May and Ward break cover and dart across the clearing to the safety of the tree line. There was no reason to expect trouble, the whole trip away from the Hydra base had been without incident but May was right to check it out, no need to get sloppy cause that got you killed... he snorted and there it was the elephant in the room, his not dead former lover, that May and Ward had conveniently left in his tender care. His, not dead former lover that had lied and cheated about his own bloody death, leaving him fucking grieving while he had obviously pissed off to a new life, he'd been dumped before but this really was the limit. Coulson had been his forever man, and he had genuinely thought he might have been Phil's. To cap it all off, for all the hurt, that this man had caused and was causing, Clint actually hated himself, for his own weakness, because for all that, for fuck sake, he still couldn't bare to see him in pain and uncomfortable like this, muttering under his breath in irritation at himself, “let me find some warm clothes for you, oh you need some shoes, and please let me give you something for the pain, you are a complete ass hole Barton!”

He caught a brief glimpse of Ward on the other side of the clearing moving quickly through the tree's but there was no threat in his posture so Clint relaxed slightly and let his thoughts wander back to the situation on this side of the tree's, he smiled wickedly at the thought of what the other Avengers would do when they found out about this particular little secret! He couldn't help thinking Phil would probably wish he was still dead when Natasha caught up with him! He kicked out at a stone on the floor in irritation, Phil, he was already calling him Phil, not Coulson, not dead man walking, no Phil, fucking Phil, “Bastard, Bastard, Bastard,” he snapped out louder than he intended.

“I know I am.” Coulson's voice was tired and resigned.

“Fuck!” Barton spat out, but didn't turn round.

“I'm sorry... God I’m so sorry.”

His voice sounded so weary, but the words, those words, cracked through Clint's skull, bitter, hot, hostile words seeped through the fissures, but with them heartbreaking disappointment consumed him, as well, he felt himself mourning all over again and yet Phil was only a few meters away saying a meaningless platitude of, 'SORRY' and the caustic hateful words bubbled up again and resurfaced as he spun round on the man. 

“Sorry,” acid dripped from his voice, he face screwed up in rage, “You're sorry... you STUPID FUCK, that's the best you can come up with, you're fucking sorry!” 

It was with some satisfaction that Clint noted that Coulsons eyes were wide open now. As Barton took another threatening step towards him wondered if the man, who was only able to stay upright courtesy of the tree behind him, had considering the fact that his former lover might just put his hands round his neck and squeeze, oh so slowly, until like the long line of acquaintances, family and so called friends in his past, he left him too, just like everyone left in the end. Then again, he already had once! 

Would he try to stop him throttling the life from him? Probably, Barton mused, after all he had survived Loki's hand, that must have taken some, awesome, will to live. Clint had scrutinized the footage from the helicarrier, over and over again, tortured himself, watching the spear go in and emerge out the other side, watched as Phil's neck arch as Loki pulled it out again, watched his nerveless body fall, one leg bent up and one resting fully on the floor. He had openly wept as Fury rushed in, unbelievably thankful his love hadn't died alone, with no audio feed and Fury's back facing the camera, he didn't know what the Director had said to him, but he could lip read his partners response, so typically Coulson, to try and relieve Fury's fears. 

Still unflappable as life oozed out of him, the man could probably persuade a Boa Constrictor to loosen off its deathgrip from round his neck, rearrange itself as a Windsor knot and come work for him as a S.H.I.E.L.D tie!

His tears had stopped abruptly, as he watched, unsure if he was insanely angry or immensely proud as Phil proclaimed he was prepared to give up his life for the cause, Phil's honest to god 'Captain America' moment. He had cried out the first time he had watched him take his final breath, the moment his lovers life had stopped, and now, here he was living and breathing again, like some wondrous miracle. 

Clint should be so happy, but he felt... cheated. It wasn't fair, surely, after all this, that he was the one that felt guilty. Guilty and more furious than he could ever remember being in his life. 

“Why! You tell me why.” He snarled.

*******************************************************************

Ward felt like they had checked every tree and blade of grass on this side of the strip and yet May seemed in no hurry to head back. 

“So... Tell me, Coulson and Barton, no love lost there?” 

May continued as if he hadn't said anything.

“Coulson break his balls, back in the day?” Ward smirked, “Can't really see it, I mean he's a bad ass and all, at times,” Ward frowned in memory, “especially when he's pissed at you and all, but he's fair, can't see him doing anything to get such a grudge up against him.”

“Coulson's changed,” May said blandly as if that explained everything.

“So he did break his ball?” 

May rolled her eyes, at Wards glee and said sarcastically, “In a manner of speaking.”

“Woo, see I thought Barton was a real hard nut, Coulson must have been one Mother f...”  
May cut him off, “Has anyone ever told you, how unbelievably dense you can be?”

Ward sighed, “Actually quite a lot of people, especially recently.”

“Coulson and Barton were partner.”

“Yes, I know, damn good reputation, that's why I was surprised at Barton’s attitude.”

“I don't mean on the job partners.” 

“Oh,” She waited for a second for the reaction. He stopped dead in his tracks, and squeaked loudly, “Do you mean they were together.”

“SSH, not so loud you idiot.” 

“Sorry,” he looked round as if to see if anything had been disturbed, “Like lovers!”

“Yes, like lovers, they had sexual intercourse and everything, Ward,” She said as if talking to a child.

“Coulson and Barton?” 

“YES!”

Ward shook his head in disbelief. “No,” and then he seemed to think of something. “No, you're wrong, Coulson, he told me, about a woman, we were having a... You know a manly chat, while he was driving Lol....” He paused saying the name of Coulson's car, a girls name, as it sounded askew, in the present conversation. “While he was driving his car,” he rephrased.

May smirked.

“Anyway,” he continued, “He told me about this woman he was dating before the Battle of New York, she played some musical instrument in an orchestra”

“A Cellist.” 

“Yes!” Ward grinned triumphantly.

She raised her eyebrow, “Think about it Ward.”

“What?”

“A Cellist, with a fine tuned string instrument and a bow, working with a highly skilled set of people!

He stopped, May thought she could actually hear the cogs turning, “Shit, it was a cover?”

“Hallelujah!”

“Barton is the Cellist?”

“Do tell me again, how you got to Level Seven?” 

“Funny,” He thought for a moment, “so what, did they split up.”

“He died, Ward.” 

Oh yer, Coulson had told him that, Ward opened his mouth, and then closed it, before opening it again, “Are you telling me Barton didn't know that Coulson was alive?”

She nodded.

“Shit!”

“Pretty much sums it up.”

 

******************************************************************

“WHY?”

“I...”

“Come on, Coulson, explain it to me,” he paused, “I thought...” Clint looked away. He was not going to cry, no way was he going to cry but it wasn't helped when he looked back at Phil, with his eyes wide and moist.

“We were... god Clint, we were, but when Fury...”

“Fury?”

Yes, Director Fury came to see me and ...” 

“You know what, Fuck Fury!” Barton shouted. 

He hadn't been sure what he was expecting, but he didn't want to hear, they made me do it.

Clint knew that Phil was a company man, they often joked, and god, when had life been reduced to before and a time after his death with every thought, but, they had, they'd laughed, that S.H.I.E.L.D's productivity must have halved when Phil Coulson fell into Clint Barton’s bed, because Phil had literally ate, slept and breathed his job, and Clint had almost made a normal man out of him, almost ...so he still ate (too little), and slept (too little), on a far to regular basis in favour of his work, but he also saved a bit of breath just for Clint. Now it seemed that the living, jealous, corporate, monster, that called itself the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division had dragged him back under and hidden him from sight, without a trace of kicking and screaming on Phil's behalf by the look of it, and Fury, shit he liked the man, respected him immensely but he begrudging admitted he was resentful of the hold he had over Phil. 

“Still his lap dog, Phil, what, he tell you to roll over, and you just did, don't forget to ask how high, when he tells you to jump,” he sneered, “ jump boy, jump!” 

Coulson sighed, “It wasn't like that Clint, well not exactly, I’d barely blinked for the first time out of a coma and I was being told I was still dead, no one was to know,” he looked up to see Clint actually listening, his body still tight and ready to strike but listening. “I didn't have enough air in my lungs to speak a word let alone argue. I couldn't have told you where I was, let alone what I was agreeing too.”

“You've had plenty of time to reassess that decision, but I haven't heard you beating anyone door down, Coulson.”

“Yes... yes, I've had time, but....” He shook his head. “I was packed off to... I was sent... to recover, far away, probably so I won't query, get me out of the way so I didn't ask the hard questions.”

That made Clint pause, that didn't sound like the party line.

“and then...” Phil looked down at the floor, his hands fisted. “I can't go against Fury, Clint, I need him.”

“Why?” Something was off, Phil looked up at him hesitantly. 

“When I got back from...” He frowned, “Fury he told me about this team he was putting together for me, how I was going out in the field again, permanently,” He looked up anxiously, “They don't look me in the eye any more, Fury and Hill, they treat me differently, they don't know how to act around me.”

“So what?” Barton demanded, “you expect me to feel sorry for you, cause you found out that S.H.I.E.L.D can manage just fine without Phil Coulson running round the halls keeping the wheels turning, must have been a hell of a shock for you, too find out your surplus to requirements,” he snorted and turned away, “I know how that feels.”

“No, Clint, I don't care about my job, I still...I wanted so much to find you, to explain, but... Once I started to doubt...”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Clint didn't think he had ever heard this man so disjointed, he could have half his leg hanging off and still give a Presidential speech. Now he couldn't string one sentence together.

“You need to move on,” Phil nodded his head to himself, his eyes casting away. “I'm not the same man, that's why I didn't come, I'm wrong, Clint, I couldn't let you get hurt again, I couldn't turn up only to find out that I’m....”

Phil looked up at him, their eyes meeting, and... 

It was a little known secret, mostly shared by Natasha and himself, that if you knew what you were looking for you could read every emotion that Coulson didn't let cross his face through his eyes and as Clint looked, he almost staggered under the weight, he had seen fear in Phil's eyes, he wasn't immune like the Junior Agents all thought, he got scared just like the rest of them, but the differences between him and just about every other Agent, Clint, had ever met was that he didn't let it affect him, he was a self contained dynamo of confidence in his own ability and those he chose to surround himself with, they could always find a way out. Now as he looked, he saw something he had never seen before, Coulson's eyes looked for guidance, he was terrified, even petrified, and the scariest thing was Phil didn't know what too do. 

Clint moved quickly and knelt down in front of the troubled man, “Phil?”

“They won't tell me how I survived, they've taken my medical records above my security levels and I’m wrong, Clint, I feel different, my body feels different, its not quite mine,” his hand moved up to touch his chest above the scar that forever marked it now, a noticeable shake in it. “I have these dreams, nightmares, I wake up and I can't breath, I...” Panic tingled his voice.  
Clint could do nothing but reach forward and grip Phil's arm. 

“All my adult life, I've been told to trust the system and I have, If it classified, it for a reason, I've followed Fury into the fire time and time again, but now... and without that... what is there...who am I?” 

Clint knew Phil, inside out, he was fundamentally a good man, a loyal man, like a patriotic stick of rock, you cut him open and he read S.H.I.E.L.D all the way through. Now he was doubting the only thing that he had truly believed in, well, he'd undoubted believed in Clint himself, but Phil knew that was gone too, probably it was, it was too early to call that one. There could be no quick fixes to this and Clint himself was a million miles always from forgiving him but... 

“Who are you, you're Phil Coulson, you're more than an Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D, Phil, much much more and you can trust in me, I'm not promising you anything, I’m so fucking cross with you right now you wouldn't believe, but I won't abandon you. I can't pretend that I understand any of this, but I won't bull shit you or sweep your crap under the rug, and you need to be honest with me about what's happening and I mean everything. Can you do that?” 

Tears, the bloody man was sitting there, battered and torn with wonder in his eyes, fucking crying and nodding his head like a lost child. Clint sighed, he didn't want to be the grown up, it wasn't a role he was used to with Coulson. He leaned his forehead against Phil's, “One more thing, I will not keep your death a secret, not for you or for Fury, you understand?” He waited for the nod again. 

“I am truly sorry,” Phil's voice broke.

“I know, I know,” he whispered back. He pulled away and sat next to him, shoulders to shoulder, they wouldn't have long to wait till the extraction and Phil needed some time to recompose himself, and Clint needed some time to digest just what he had got himself into. 

“You need to start making a plan for when Stark comes knocking at your door.”

“Clint,” Phil groaned, “Talk about hitting a man when he's down!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So hope you enjoyed! I couldn't quite let it be a happy ever after, but left it open.
> 
> Do let me know if you think it might be worth continuing into a series. 
> 
> and... Finally, thank you for taking the time to read this, leave kudos and comments, you really are the stars!

**Author's Note:**

> Go on, you obviously made it till the end, hit me with what you got, I can take it!


End file.
